Repetition
by Ryuchu
Summary: Lizzie Borden took an axe gave her mother forty whacks when she saw what she had done she gave her father forty one Lizzie Borden took an axe gave her mother forty whacks when she saw what she had done she gave her father forty one Lizzie Borden took an axe gave her mother forty whacks when she saw what she had done she gave her father forty one Lizzie Borden took an axe


**A/N: **Repetition, they say, is insanity...

Anyways, this was based off a prompt exchange I did with I My Me Mine, but the story kind of ended up derailing from the original prompt she gave me. Whoops. I'm still going to dedicate this one to her though; so here you go Mir, have a one-shot!

* * *

"Nine hundred and ninety-six…"

"It's alright to talk about it you know."

"Nine hundred and ninety-seven…"

"No one here is going to harm you. No one here is going to judge you."

"Nine hundred and ninety-eight…"

"We just want to help."

"Nine hundred and ninety-nine…"

"Please, just talk to us; talk to _me_. If you don't talk, you're never going to get better."

"One thousand…"

With that, he watched as she pushed the last piece of the puzzle in its proper place. It was an unusual request, but in one of her rare lucid moments, the girl had demanded it for her therapy sessions. So far, every session had consisted of nothing but her sitting in the room and assembling the pieces as she counted them off.

He waited for her to say something more.

Silence greeted him as she stared down at the now completed puzzle.

"Fine, we'll save it for another day. For now you can just return to your room and rest, alright?"

Even if she had a problem with his proposal, he knew she wouldn't voice her dissention.

With a sigh and a flourish of static, the man released his finger from the microphone that allowed him to speak with the patient. He fell back into his seat and absentmindedly brushed his hair out of his face and pushed his glasses up as another frustrated sigh escaped his lips.

They weren't making any progress and it was driving him crazy.

He wanted to help her; he _desperately_ wanted to help her. Even though she wouldn't voice it, he was sure that she had seen things that no sixteen year old child should. The truth was written on her face – her blank face that never once wavered into emotion.

"…But to help you, I need you to talk," He grumbled to himself as he leaned forward in his chair and observed the young woman on the other side of the glass wall. For her part, the girl remained exactly as she had throughout the entire course of their therapy session.

Submitting to defeat, the man lifted himself to his feet and headed for the door. All he could do was hope that there would be some form of break-through tomorrow.

"She was the thousandth one."

Although the voice was distorted by its journey over the intercom, the tone was cleared and assured.

"…What was that?"

The man's footsteps stopped suddenly as he turned to survey the room he had been about to leave. What had heard was something that shouldn't exist; it didn't make sense. They had been trying to get her to talk for weeks, but no matter how they prodded her, no matter how many enticing promises they gave her, she had never broken down.

But she had definitely spoken.

Excitement guiding his every step, he entered back into the observation room.

He felt his heart stop dead in his chest as he involuntarily jumped back.

She was standing right up against the thin barrier of glass that separated the two of them. With each shallow breath she exhaled, the glass fogged slightly, but it did nothing to diminish the intense stare she had trained on him. Her dead, golden eyes looked unflinchingly at him and he swallowed shakily.

"I loved her."

"P-Pardon me?" The man felt his voice shake involuntarily.

"I loved her," She repeated in the exact same assured tone she had been using up to that point, "I loved her more than anything in the world. More than a sister. More than a lover. More than a god."

"Who are you talking about?"

"Mimi."

Mimi – a girl who had been found dead; killed by an axe blow to the head.

And he was talking to her supposed killer.

Mayu – a girl who looked frail and thin in the clinic issued gown that adorned her figure.

A girl who was staring directly at him with eyes that pierced through everything.

The longer she stared at him, the more he found himself both drawn to and repelled by her. He wanted desperately to ask her questions, partially because it was his job but mostly due to personal curiosity, but he also feared that she would start answering them.

"Do you…want to talk about Mimi?" He finally asked, as he managed to find his voice once more.

"She was the thousandth one. I loved her."

She repeated two of the phrases she had stated earlier, almost as if she had reached the end of her book of limited phrases and had to start over.

"She was the thousandth person you loved?"

"Yes."

"If you loved her so much, do you think you could tell me what happened? Please, we want to know the truth and we want to help you get better."

Instead of answering him, the young girl turned away from the glass and returned to the table she had been sitting at. She plopped down in the chair once more, and without removing her eyes from the researcher, she began to disassemble the puzzle she had just put together.

"I met her because we went to the same school."

One…

"It was an all-girl's school. My parents said it would help me concentrate on my studies."

Two…

"No boys or relationships to distract me."

Three…

"It's kind of funny though, because I fell in love with Mimi at first sight."

Four…

"How could I not? She was gorgeous, kind, smart – everything I ever aspired to be and have always failed at achieving."

Five…

"That's why I knew. I just knew that I would admire and love her forever."

Six…

"Even if she didn't return the sentiment."

Seven…

* * *

It took me so long before I finally worked up the courage to ask her out. I wasn't sure if she was a lesbian, or even bi, but I was willing to risk the humiliation in order to ask her. She was just that important to me.

The day I set aside to ask her, I had everything planned out perfectly. The anonymous love letter had been sent a week in advance, specifying the time and place; I even took special care to invite her, as a friend, to hang out after school that day. When she blushed slightly and told me that she already had plans, I couldn't help but feel my chest overfill with joy. Her refusal meant that she would be going to the confession and I would have my chance.

I hid in the shadows and waited for everyone to leave as she headed to her locker – it was the place I had designated in my letter. When everyone had left and I first approached, she looked confused; I'm pretty sure she was gonna ask me what I was still doing at school and why I hadn't gone home.

But realization suddenly dawned on her face.

After that, I didn't waste any time plowing ahead with my confession. The words came out in a rush; it was as if all the feelings I had for her simply couldn't be held back any longer. Everything had to come out there and then or else I was going to explode.

By the time I finished, I was panting slightly because I had forgotten to breathe. But I didn't take my eyes off her – not for a moment. I remember how shocked she looked. At the time, I wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

When she opened her mouth to speak, my heart was thudding like mad in my chest.

Do you know what she said to me?

* * *

She stopped then. Her voice which had been methodically recounting the story cut off abruptly. Her hand stopped its disassembly of the puzzle and simply hovered in the air, ready to strike at the puzzle once again. It was almost as if she were waiting for something.

As seconds dragged into minutes, the researcher finally realized what it was.

She was waiting for him to answer her question.

"Uhm…I don't…I don't know…" He stammered in a voice that shook far more than he had expected it to.

"Oh come now, you have to have some sort of guess Mister Kiyoteru."

Two hundred and ten…

The way she said his name, drawing out each vowel, struck him with fear in a way that he couldn't even begin to explain.

"I…I really don't know! I mean…did she…did she reject you?"

Silence fell in the room once more and as the girl's hand stood posed to remove another puzzle piece. He felt sweat roll down his back as she continued to hold his gaze with her dead, golden eyes. Then she did something even more unsettling than staring at him.

She smiled.

That smile made his blood run cold.

"That would be the easy explanation, wouldn't it?"

Two hundred and eleven…

"But you're wrong; she said yes."

Two hundred and twelve…

"We started dating right there."

Two hundred and thirteen…

"I was so happy I could burst."

Two hundred and fourteen…

"Yes…so happy I could burst."

Two hundred and fifteen…

* * *

How long were we dating before everything started to break apart?

I guess it must have been a while, because for a few months it was nothing but pure bliss. Mimi was so confident and comfortable in our relationship that she would even show affection during school hours. Of course there were repercussions, but I was the one who received most of them since she was far more popular than I; she had no idea what was going on. I made it a point to ensure that.

So while I may have languished in the shadows when she was away from me, every moment we spent together was pure bliss.

Then came the day when she told me she would be transferring schools – she said something about her parents wanting her to go to a more prestigious school. Of course it was some school several towns away.

That was the first speck of darkness that managed to penetrate the bubble of light I had carefully constructed around our relationship. Once more, I refused to allow that darkness to reach Mimi. I loved her far too much for that.

Instead I smiled and gave her a parting kiss that contained all the emotions I had for her. I thought that kiss would be enough to tie us together, no matter how far the two of us were torn apart. The next day she was gone and I was left alone.

Remember when I mentioned how people would tease me when Mimi wasn't around? Well, with her presence removed from the equation, the teasing not only became more open, but it also became crueler. Mild insults changed to verbal assaults; harmless pranks turned to acts of blatant violence. Their words, their fists, their weapons – all of it hurt so much.

It only made me cling to Mimi more desperately. She was my light in the darkness; she was the last golden thread of anything decent in my life. As long as I could see Mimi smile, as long as the two of us could be happy together, I would endure anything.

Now that I no longer saw her every day, it was even easier to hide the signs of their abuse. As I tended the newly obtained injuries for the day, I would chat with her on the phone, making my voice light and loving. Eventually those cuts and bruises took on a new meaning; they no longer represented hatred; they represented my love for Mimi. They represented how I would go through anything for her.

Yes, my proof of my devotion.

* * *

Her voice clipped off just as abruptly as it had before; her hand once more hung suspended in the air. This time he instantly recognized that she was waiting for some input from him, but he didn't know what to say – she hadn't asked a question like last time.

As he racked his brain for what might be the correct response to this situation, he heard the sound of laughter begin to fill the room. The sound was brittle and mirthless. The dark, artificial feeling was only intensified by the odd electronic twang that was added as a result of going through the sound system. Kiyoteru felt a dark shiver run right to his core and he instinctively flinched.

"Yes…yes…she needed to be bruised. She needed to understand my devotion."

Four hundred and twenty-eight…

Every word she spoke was punctuated with one of her tiny giggles. Kiyoteru felt his blood run cold every time one of those giggles escaped her childish lips.

She was a monster; a devil; some representation of hell itself.

And it was his job to cure her. It was his job to give her back a normal life.

His fight-or-flight response was screaming at him – _begging_ him – to get out of there and allow someone else to take the job. However, his more base instincts were pushed aside in favor of his pride. She was his patient and he would do everything in his power to heal her. He would do everything in his power to make her better. He would do everything in his power to make her normal.

"Is that why you did it," He said forcing his voice to be filled with false confidence, "Is that why you…killed her?"

The words seemed to hang suspended in the air between them. Neither moved as he waited for her response.

His determination and pride was rewarded with another one of her mirthless giggles.

"Every story has a beginning, middle, and end," She stated, using a tone much like a teacher chastising a pupil, "One can't just skip over the middle and rush to the end, now can they Mister Kiyoteru?"

Four-hundred and twenty-nine…

"N-No, I suppose not," He replied, all previous bravado void from his voice.

"Very good," She stated clapping her hands together to celebrate his correct answer. For reasons he couldn't explain, the action made his stomach lurch in protest and his instincts attempt to lay claim of him once again. Instead, he silenced them once more and watched as Mayu begin to dissemble the puzzle once more.

"For a while, simply being able to talk to her over the phone was enough."

Four hundred and thirty…

"But then I began to realize that she was drifting apart."

Four hundred and thirty-one…

"Exactly four months after she moved away, the fateful phone-call came."

Four hundred and thirty-two…

"The phone-call that would tear my heart apart."

Four hundred and thirty-three…

* * *

We are breaking up.

The way she said it – so assured, like it was the right thing to do – made my hear stop dead in my chest. For a moment, I could do nothing but hold the phone to my ear and breathe shallowly as I tried to process this information. The Band-Aid I had been about to apply to another newly earned cut fell from my grasp.

When I regained my sense, I began to plead with her.

We could make it work out, right? We could try a little bit longer, right? Maybe I would be able to convince my parents to drive me over so I could see her on the weekend. Maybe we could set a mid-way point so that neither of us would have to travel as far to see the other. I gave every excuse that came to my mind and the entire time she just listened silently.

By the time I stopped, I was out of breath. I had forgotten to breathe. Just like when I confessed to her.

When it was her turn to respond, her voice was clipped and business-like. She told me that our relationship had just been an exploratory phase. She told me she wasn't interested in being in a romantic relationship with a girl any more. She told me that we're both young and hormonal and I'll get over my phase in time too.

My heart felt dead in my chest, but this only made me argue more passionately. I screamed that it wasn't a phase – I always loved her and always would. I screamed that she meant the world and so much more to me. I screamed that it didn't matter that we were both girls; we were in love and that was enough.

My words had no impact on her because the next time she spoke she was just as business-like and distant. She said those words I never wanted to hear from her.

It's over.

Don't ever call me again.

With that, the line went dead.

I don't know how long I sat there in a daze before my plan began to form in my mind.

Why had I suffered for her if she was just going to leave me?

Was it all pointless?

No…no…no…

She just needed to be bruised.

She just needed to understand the devotion I had for her.

Bruising wouldn't be enough - there had to be more.

* * *

Silence fell in the room once more and Kiyoteru allowed himself to breath once again. His knuckles were white as he gripped the counter and waited for her to proceed.

Instead, she simply continued to stare at him.

A smile once more split her face. Any light was absent from her eyes. Her head tilted slightly to the left, a poor imitation of innocence and confusion.

"You seem quite absorbed in the story. Are you really sure you want to hear the ending?"

Six hundred and eighty-three…

"Yes," The response was out of his mouth before he even had time to process it, "I want to understand you. I want to help you. I want to make you better."

"'Help me?' Make me better?'" She echoed, her smile fading, "Whoever said I needed those things. I'm perfectly fine."

Six hundred and eighty-four…

"But you…you murdered Mimi. You murdered a person you love."

"Yes. I did."

Six hundred and eighty-five…

"That's…that's wrong!"

"Who says so? I haven't once been punished for my actions. That obviously means they're not wrong."

Six hundred and eighty-six…

"You…you speak as if you've killed people other than Mimi…"

"She was the thousandth one."

Six hundred and eighty-six…

"You mean…"

"She was the thousandth one I loved…and the thousandth one I killed."

Six hundred and eighty-seven…

* * *

I convinced my mom to drive me to Mimi's house. I told her the two of us were studying together for the big state-wide test that was coming up and my mother instantly agreed.

I stepped up to the door, and a few moments later, Mimi answered.

The moment I saw her, I felt all my feelings for her swell fresh within my chest. Her hair had grown longer since the last time I had seen her. She wore a loose-fitting summer dress that was dangerously close to showing off her more intimate regions. Everything about her spoke of sun and warmth. For a moment, my plans completely fled my mind.

I loved her so much that it was a physical ache in my chest.

Then her face convulsed into a frown and I knew there was no other option.

Mimi had to be bruised. Mimi had to understand. Mimi had to have proof of her devotion to me.

I told her that I just wanted to talk to her; I told her that once we talked, I would leave her alone for good; I told her that I just didn't want there to be any loose threads to this relationship.

In the end, she let me in and lead me to her room.

She ushered me in and quickly closed the door behind us. I heard her turn the lock - she probably didn't want her parents interrupting when she told me off. At least, that's what I believe her plan was. However, I can't really tell you the truth, because she never got to execute her plan. The next moment, I produced the axe that I had shoved in my backpack and rushed towards her.

I quickly smothered her unvoiced scream as I shoved my hand over her mouth and brought the axe close to her face. I remember telling her that if she screamed, I would kill her then and there, but if she did everything I said, I might let her live. She nodded her agreement and I released my hold of her. Terror was clear on her face, but she was as beautiful as ever. I took her hand and lead her away from the door until the two of us were sitting on her bed.

I kissed her softly, first on the nose, then on the cheek, and then on the lips. I told her that it was alright, it was okay; in a few moments she would love me again. She would love me just as much as I loved her.

I took the axe and slid it gently across her cheek, causing her to wince in pain and fresh, red blood to spring forth. That was the first place I was bruised. That was the first place where I displayed my complete devotion to her.

I began to move swiftly then, marking all the places that I had been hurt. A cut on the other cheek; a cut on the eyebrow; a cut on the torso. The number of cuts multiplied rapidly and every time she would scream slightly louder as the pain ripped through her. I kept cooing softly, telling her how everything would be okay. By the time we were done, she would wear just as many scars for me as I bore for her.

All too swiftly, it came time for the last cut.

The cut I had received on my head when a boy had attacked me with a knife for being a "fucking faggot".

I stood from the bed and looked down at her. She was covered in blood and cuts and the terror in her eyes was no less. I knelt down and gave her a long, hard kiss on the mouth. Once I stood up again, I raised the axe above my head.

I loved her so much. I loved those kind, caring eyes. I loved those long, flowing locks. I loved her laughter. I loved her smile.

I wanted to hear it from her. I wanted to hear her say it back.

When I asked that she do just that, her eyes concentrated on the axe. I'm sure she was remembering my earlier assurances that if she did what I wanted her to, I might let her live.

Then her mouth began to move.

I love you Mayu.

The axe came down and split her head open.

* * *

"That's the end of my tale."

Nine-hundred and ninety-one…

"But is it really?"

Nine-hundred and ninety-two…

"I've been stuck in this loop for so long. Being born over and over again."

Nine-hundred and ninety-three…

"I wonder if it's a kind of punishment."

Nine-hundred and ninety-four…

"But no, it can't be."

Nine-hundred and ninety-five…

"No one finds me guilty, so I'll keep killing."

Nine hundred and ninety-six…

"At first it was because I was a woman. Then it was because I was a child. Now it's because I'm insane."

Nine hundred and ninety-seven…

"I'm not wrong."

Nine hundred and ninety-eight…

"I'll keep killing."

Nine hundred and ninety-nine…

"When I find the next person that I love."

One thousand…

* * *

"You really worked a miracle with this one," Kiyoteru's co-worker said as he gave him a slap on the back, "Everyone was sure that the girl was completely un-curable, but you somehow managed to do it!"

"I…didn't really do much. After that one therapy session, she simply became better," He said slowly, as he allowed his eyes to drift to where the young girl stood. She no longer wore her hospital gown, instead wearing a dark and frilly dress. In her arms, she hugged a stuff-animal rabbit - apparently it was something that she always carried around with her. Looking at her as she was now, he saw no traces of the very same girl who had admitted to murder.

He felt a chill run through him as the memory descended upon him. Had it all been some sort of delusion? Had he so desperately wanted to heal her that he created problems that she didn't have? He couldn't say; all he knew was that after that session, Mayu had recovered quickly. Her eyes once more shown with life and her warm laughter filled the halls.

A miracle, they had called it.

Completely cured, they had called it.

Ready to go back to normal society, they had said.

If all that was true, why did he feel as if he was releasing a monster onto the world?

He watched as her parents filled out the last of her paperwork before turning away from the counter. Mayu followed after them, but suddenly stopped and turned to look directly at him. Her eyes were kind and excited.

His blood turned to ice in his veins.

She ran up to him, a wide smile on her face before she gave a deep curtsey. If she were a normal child, he would have classified it as cute. But she wasn't a normal child.

"Thank you very much for everything," She said as she raised herself once again, "I know I wouldn't have been able to get better if you weren't there for me. Really, you're my hero."

By the end of her speech, a luminescent blush colored her face. He could think of no response to make. He was too terrified.

"In honor of that," She continued, oblivious to his terror, "I decided to name my stuffed animal after you. Say hello to Mr. Hiyama, Kiyoteru."

As she stated this, she held up the bunny and made it wave one of it's arms. Her giggles continued as her smile spread wider.

"It sounds kind of silly to say it that way, huh?"

"...Yes," Was all Kiyoteru could bring himself to say.

"Oh, I have one more thing to tell you, but it's a secret," She began to motion for him to bend down so she could get right next to his ear. Morbid fascination driving his actions, he knelt down as she pushed her lips right next to his ear.

"I left you a super-secret present in the room. Make sure that you look for it once I'm gone, alright?"

He gave a shaky nod, causing Mayu to giggle in delight before she drew slightly back and gave him a childish peck on the cheek. By the time Kiyoteru had straightened himself, she had already run out the door.

He felt his co-worker nudge him in the ribs and mention something about a little crush, but he wasn't listening. He turned instantly and headed for Mayu's room. Within moments he was running.

When he burst through her door, he found nothing out of the ordinary. The only thing that differentiated this room from any other in the ward was the puzzle, still sitting unassembled, on the table. Terror mounting within his chest, he approached.

He realized that the puzzle pieces weren't randomly placed as he had initially thought – no, they were clearly lined up in perfect rows. Each of them was also upside-down and had something written on the back. With shaking hands, he picked up the first two puzzle pieces.

Andrew Borden.

Abbie Borden.

His eyes began to frantically scan the line of puzzle pieces. All of the names were unfamiliar to him, but he couldn't stop his eyes from continuing to trace the lines. This must have been the present he was talking about; there must be something she wanted him to see. When he reached the second to last one, he felt his heart stop dead in his chest.

Mimi Usano.

It took all of his willpower to make his eyes move to the next piece.

Kiyoteru Hiyama.

One thousand and one…


End file.
